


rash and reasonable

by jdphoenix



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Post-Season/Series 01, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-06
Updated: 2015-11-06
Packaged: 2018-04-30 06:25:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5153591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdphoenix/pseuds/jdphoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I-” She cuts off with a pained sound and swallows.</p>
<p>“Yeah,” he says. He feels it too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	rash and reasonable

**Author's Note:**

> This is a follow-up to [Turncoats and Transportations](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3552227/chapters/8748241), which you'll find in my biospec fic collection. You might not need to read it before reading this, but it'd sure help.

Something goes _crunch_ under Grant’s boot and he closes his eyes. It’s both a reaction - how could he be so _sloppy_ \- and a way of cutting off his vision to focus on his hearing in case something comes at them from the trees. When nothing does, he looks down to see whatever it is he stepped on - can’t be the leaves, everything’s way too green around here, and he’s got an idea from the feel of the thing under his foot but he really needs it confirmed.

Yep. Yes. Confirmed.

“Simmons, we’re leaving.”

“Oh hush,” she says, “we haven’t seen anything larger than a terrier all day.” She’s been fussing with those vines all morning, going on about how the tree underneath them doesn’t have any bark but the vines don’t exactly have protection either. Not even thorns, which is good because he will drag her over them if he has to.

“Yeah,” he says, “and I just found the remains of one of those pig-things. Whatever ate it, I don’t want to be around when it comes back.”

She looks up as his shadow falls over her, eager instead of horrified. Does she not get that they’re on an _alien planet_ with God only knows what kind of monsters running around? It’s a miracle they’ve all survived the last four days without anything more serious than Fitz tripping down an embankment, but their luck’s bound to run out soon.

“What kind of remains?” she asks.

“Bones. Stripped clean.”

“Most likely from the elements,” she says with a frown and turns back to her work studying one of the big, yellow flowers that are everywhere on her vine.

“ _No_ ,” he says, fighting for calm. He’s on thin ice with the team, but they need all the help they can get while they’re stranded here. This is his one chance and he can’t afford to screw it up by getting into a fight with Simmons. “That was just the one I could ID. There were other bones. Something likes to hunt here and I’m not waiting around to find out what.”

“I just need a few more samples.”

He knows that tone of voice. It’s the one she uses on Fitz when he’s being unreasonable and it’s her way of letting him know the work she’s doing is more important than his tantrum.

Grant is not throwing a _tantrum_.

Fuck this. Coulson will understand and Simmons will just have to forgive him. He grabs her arm and pulls her to her feet. The flower comes clean off the vine in her hands. Its acrid scent fills the air around them.

“There. Now you have a sample,” he says. “We’re leaving.” Only his feet won’t move. His hand is still on Simmons’ shoulder. He should use it to drag her along, force her away from here, except he’s distracted by how much warmth is bleeding through to his palm and how much more there’d be if he was touching her skin instead of her blouse.

“Um,” she says.

He tears his attention away from her shoulder and discovers her pupils are blown wide and a flush is traveling up her neck.

“I-” She cuts off with a pained sound and swallows.

“Yeah,” he says. He feels it too.

There are a lot of shoulds in his head. Should get out of here. Should move away from her. Should report back to the team. And all of those are _important_ , they’re just not as important as how badly he wants to fuck Simmons _right now_.

She moves first, but not by much. He doesn’t know how they get on the ground, doesn’t remember tearing at her clothes or having his torn in return. He remembers her skin though, how there’s not enough of it and too much all at once. He remembers her hands - sticky from whatever bled out of that flower when she tore it off - in his hair and on his chest and touching him everywhere he’s touching her.

His hand is inside her pants before she can get them off. Whatever this is, whatever’s happened to them, it’s left them nearly mindless and if he doesn’t get her ready now, he’ll hurt her in a few minutes. She nearly cracks her head on a root when his fingers find her opening. He worries for half a second that she’s hurt, but she follows up the move with a string of nonsense curses that amount to an order to _hurry up_.

He’s happy to oblige.

Despite his efforts, when they’re _finally naked_ , she cries out when he enters her. One of her hands curls in those damn vines of hers, holding on while the other joins his between them.

This isn’t some artful seduction. It’s messy and ugly and carnal. His knees hurt and her back’s gotta be raw already from the ground but she’s still panting and moaning like she can’t get enough.

It’s not like Lorelei. Simmons isn’t suddenly everything he wants. But everything he wants is Simmons. When she looks up at him with half-lidded eyes, he doesn’t bend down to kiss her fiercely because he loves her - or because he thinks he does - he kisses her because there is nothing else except this.

This isn’t devotion, it’s obsession, and Grant’s always been really good at that.

His hand reaches through the vines to lace their fingers together and he twists his other hand in her hair. “Come on, baby,” he says with a grin.

She smiles right back and lifts her hips, adjusting the angle in a way that has him seeing stars. When they clear, her teeth are digging into her lip and he can feel her feet fighting for purchase in the dirt under their legs.

He braces himself over her and moves inside her. Back and forth, again and again until-

_Nothing_. He’s right there on the edge and he can feel she is too, but not a _damn thing_ is happening.

Her eyes harden and she pushes at his shoulder, turning them so she can be on top, which is fine with him. If she can get this finished, he is happy to let her. Only they don’t make it all the way around. They get caught on their sides by their hands, still twisted in the vines.

Grant tugs, but the vines are too close around his wrist. Now that he’s noticed, he can feel just how _tight_ it is, tight enough that Simmons’ bones are digging painfully against his. She laughs into his collarbone and it reverberates all the way down to their joined bodies.

“Not funny,” he says.

She tosses her head back - which also causes a reaction a couple feet lower - and says, “It’s trying to eat us.”

He pins her with wide eyes. “How is that something to laugh over?”

She wraps her free arm around his waist and shifts her hips, both for the friction and for a better angle to try pulling her hand out. “We haven’t seen anything on this planet bigger than a small dog. Probably that’s its main food source. It sends whatever comes near into a sexual frenzy and then uses the distraction to devour the animal.”

Her hand finally slips free and he pulls his back before the vines can tighten the slack. He rolls the rest of the way onto his back and rubs at his wrist. Simmons catches the hand with a smile and rubs it for him, bringing it to her lips to kiss his palm.

“We’re too big for it to digest, and it’s not as though it has teeth. You said you just found bones?” The question ends on an especially high note as she rolls her hips.

His hand slips from hers and catches on her breast. A flick of his thumb over her nipple has her dragging in a shuddering breath.

“It probably decomposed the flesh,” she says, sounding like the words are coming from very far away in that head of hers, “and then discarded the bones.” She falls against his chest with a frustrated cry.

“We’re not gonna be able to finish, are we?” he asks, trailing his hand lightly over her back.

“I don’t think so. It’s probably a way of keeping its victims in the area longer.”

Fan-fucking-tastic.

“Great,” he mutters.

Simmons shifts over him, but not in a promising way. In a few seconds she’s gone, leaving him cold as the jungle air rushes in to fill in all the places she was.

He sits up because he won’t be the one with less control here. They dress in chilly silence. Grant doesn’t know about her, but every brush of his skin _hurts_. He doesn’t want his thick jeans or his heavy boots, he wants _her_ , her skin touching his and her breath on his face and her smile against his mouth.

He glances at her and finds her staring. He must be pretty out of it not to have felt her watching.

“We look like hell,” he says and reaches for a ragged petal caught in her hair.

“Don’t,” she says softly. “Don’t touch me.” She’s frozen in place and staring at him with wide, fearful eyes. “If you do, I-”

“Yeah.” He drops his hand to his side. He probably wouldn’t be able to stop either.

He spins on his heel and searches for the duffel bag she’s had him carting around for her. It’s half-engulfed in vines, but a lot easier to tug out than their hands were.

“We should keep some distance on the way back.” He walks around the far side of one of the less-dangerous trees that lined their path here and points to tell her to walk on the other side.

She hugs herself and takes small, slow steps. Which is good because his hard-on is still as hard as ever and he needs a little time.

“How long do you think it’ll take to wear off?” he asks.

He can hear her breathing. God, if it were a little quieter he’d swear he could hear her _heartbeat_. There’s too much of her and all of it is way too far away.

“We should stop at the stream on the way back.” She holds her hands in front of her stomach to examine them. “The fluid I got on my hands, it could be a more concentrated version of whatever caused this. If we wash off, it should help.”

Help. Not fix. Great. But if it can keep him from walking into camp like this, he’s all for it.

They catch the stream further down than they have before. No way are they going all the way back to the section they’ve been using for water - _he’s_ been using; in addition to guarding Simmons on her sample-gathering, he’s the team’s resident pack mule while they’re here.

When they reach a safely slow-moving spot, he drops the duffel and dives right in. Staying on the shore isn’t an option, not when Simmons is gonna be undressing just a few feet away. If he caught a look at that slowly revealed skin, he’d-

He comes up gasping for air, his eyes firmly shut even though he’s facing the far shore. “Water’s fine!” he calls. He swims in a wide arch back to the shallows - making sure there’s no chance of glimpsing her on the way - and starts tossing his soaking clothes up onto a rock.

The water is helping, but hell if he knows whether it’s from the sap or whatever washing off or just the cold water on his balls.

A pained gasp has him spinning and he has to duck down in the water to keep his balance on the uneven stones.

“I’m fine!” Simmons says. She’s stark naked and picking her way carefully into the water. Slowly, her ass dips back under the surface. Even from this angle, he can see her holding back a cry when the red patch on her back touches the water.

“Sorry,” Grant says and means it, that looks painful.

“Not your fault.” She’s managing pretty well and keeps going at a steady pace even though it’s clearly hurting her. Once she’s in all the way, she breathes a little easier and swims out into the deeper water.

He tries and fails to look away from the brief reappearances of pale skin above the surface while she swims or the way her hair clings to her neck and shoulders.

Fuck.

He closes his eyes and drops back under to scrub at that crap she got in his hair. There was a whole course at the Academy on beating arousal and he puts it to good use now, drawing up bad memories. Garrett going slowly insane. How sick he felt when Skye got shot. Buddy. Hell, Lorelei even makes an appearance and he comes back up with a grin on his face while he thinks of how it’d piss her off to know.

He’s not done, but he’s better. He could walk back into camp now, at least.

It takes him a second to spot Simmons again. She’s resting against a rock that’s half-submerged a ways downstream. He can just make out the top of her head over it. He swims over, figuring he can tell her the good news, only to stop in place when he finally gets a look at her. The way the water’s moving, it’s tough to tell, but she’s definitely got her hand between her legs. The tops of her breasts disappear and reappear with each move of her shoulders.

Suddenly he’s not so confident about making it to camp.

“That can’t be good for your back,” he says. He’s really gotta start watching his tongue. It’s one thing to loosen up now that he can, get a rise out of Coulson and the rest from time to time, but this is just being a shit for the hell of it and that’ll get him killed if he pulls it with anyone else.

She opens her eyes just far enough to glare at him. She’s not surprised to find him watching; either she just thinks that low of him or she’s okay with it.

“So lend a hand or go dry off,” she snaps.

That answers that question.

“You were right,” he says. “Washing it off helps, we can-”

“I am not going to go back to camp just to spend the rest of the day pretending everything is normal while I’m wishing I could orgasm already.” Her eyes drop to the water. She’s remembering what it was like to be pinned beneath him, to ride him. He’s almost tempted to stop her just to force her to keep thinking about it all day. “If water’s enough to take the edge off, it should be enough to allow completion.”

His mouth quirks up on one side. Seems to him she’s reaching a little there, but what kind of a guy would he be if he left her here to finish on her own? And that rock really must be hurting her back.

He drags her off it -  _God_ , he missed her skin - and kisses her hard on the mouth while he maneuvers them so the current is pushing him into the rock. Her wet hair’s like a rope that he twists around his palm so he can pull her away to watch her face while he tugs her hand from between her thighs.

“You’re an ass,” she says while she angles her hips insistently against his.

“Yeah, but you knew that.”

She makes that same cry again when they come together, but this time there’s something like release in it and he knows this one’s gonna work.

She clings to him in the water, using him as her anchor, and he savors the near weightlessness of her in his arms, the push and drag of her breasts over his chest. She kisses a line along his collarbone, sometimes soft teasing, sometimes dragging teeth, but always there.

It’s not like before. They’re not wild, but they are desperate. The need to touch and be touched is still holding them together; part of him still thinks he could live forever inside her.

And _wow_ , he is _definitely_ blaming that on the alien plant. He is not that sappy.

But he _is_ coming, and so is she. She’s tight around him and her teeth might actually be tighter on his shoulder (who knew Simmons was a biter? He should probably just be glad she’s not a screamer, the last thing he needs is for Trip to shoot him between the eyes right now - though what a way to go). While they're coming down, she actually licks at the spot in between kisses and he’s not sure what to think about that, so he doesn’t.

“Beats being eaten,” he sighs. And there goes his mouth again.

“Depends by who,” she says. Her breath stings against his shoulder and he’s too busy being confused by his more positive reaction to stop her pushing away. “Thanks for the help.”

“Anytime,” he says while she rings out her hair.

She dries off in the sun, completely unbothered that he’s got a full view of her even after she’s gotten what she wanted from him.

“I still hate you,” she says, face turned to the sky.

“I’ve got teeth marks on my shoulder that say otherwise.” What the hell is wrong with him? He should be spinning this to his advantage and instead he’s antagonizing her?

He wants to see what she’ll do, he realizes. Will she rise to the occasion or shrink away?

In true Simmons fashion, she does neither. “You were convenient and logical. Why waste my own energy when allowing you to help gets the job done much faster?” She grab for her clothes and starts dressing.

He stays in the water, but wades a little closer. To talk more easily, it has nothing to do with the great view from down here. “So you’re not gonna run tell Coulson how the traitor violated you?”

“I think we both did our fair share of violating,” she says, brushing the whole matter aside. “And anyway, everyone knows you’re still hung up on Skye. You only bothered with me because of those bloody flowers.” She fixes him with a stare. “Aren’t you getting out?”

“Gotta wait for my clothes to dry.”

She rolls her eyes like he’s the biggest idiot in the world. “I would like to _sleep_  - hopefully to forget this ever happened - and if you haven’t noticed, the beds are back on the Bus.”

“And so are the others, who are gonna ask why you’re napping before lunch. You’ll be better off sleeping out here.”

She looks like she wants to fight him on that, but logic wins out again and she lays down in the grass. She opens her mouth to say something more, and it’ll probably be snarky so he cuts her off.

“I’ll keep watch, don’t worry.”

She scoffs at the reassurance - like she hasn’t been relying on him to cover her back for the past four days - and closes her eyes.

Truth is, he’d like a nap himself. A couple rounds of very enthusiastic sex and a bath are enough to knock anyone out, but if a _plant_ can do all that, he’s not about to leave them defenseless against whatever else this planet might throw their way.

He does climb out though, for the better vantage point to watch for trouble. When he’s not walking the perimeter or eventually getting dressed, he spends most of the afternoon right by her side, watching the trees while his fingers trail idly over her exposed skin.


End file.
